Game of Shadows
by Chrome Hearts
Summary: The art of Shape Shifting has been passed down through selected families for generations, but that changed when Lord Aidou saw these peaceful druids as a threat. Now, the last remaining Shifter, Chiyo is to serve none other than Hanabusa, the son of the very person responsible for the genocide of her people. How will Chiyo cope when she uncovers the truth about her dark past?


My friend allowed me to borrow Vampire Knight recently. I felt inspired to write a sequel to Beyond Crimson Eyes, however I could not read the first sentence without so much as cringing and pondering my sanity at the time of writing it. Thus, I felt the need to re-write this before posting its sequel, _Two Moons._  
Enjoy. Or not.

It feels strange working with these characters once again.  
Oh well.

**This story is rated M for blood, violence and gore.  
**

* * *

The overcast clouds hung low in the navy sky, a frigid chill circulated through the small village, culminating as air in odd places. The night itself was still, but far from peaceful. Instead, it was ominous; the village folk were restless, as though they knew something bad was going to happen: on edge, restless. They had been that way for days – their stress and anxiety often taken out on one another.

But one could not blame them, for what they waited for was far worse than a few arguments or punches.

As the icy night air washed through the small village, the wooden boards of the small cabin-like houses began to bend and shudder, creaking against the invisible force that pushed them. It was an unsettling noise, constant; mixed with the whistling of the wind as it crept up through the spaces in the floorboards.

From his perch at the northernmost gate, one of the senior members of the Night Watch lifted his gaze, his piercing yellow eyes fixated by the moon's crimson hue. They were coming, however, for what reason, he did not know. Breaking his gaze away from the sanguine moon, the senior member of the Night Watch scanned his surroundings. No, he knew not why they were coming, but he would be ready when they did.

Allowing his shoulders to relax, the senior member of the Night Watch flexed his fingers, a small smile twisting its way onto his face as he felt the gentle tug of the muscles under his pallid flesh. Ready was an understatement. He was going to make them regret so much as daring to wander so close to their lands.

The soft sound of rhythmic footsteps echoed off the dampened flat stone path and the Night Watch member sighed inwardly.

"You know," he said, "you should really work on your stealth, Kenji."

A quiet chuckle rumbled from Kenji's throat as he reached the elder. Tilting his head upwards, he surveyed the bloody moon, slowly becoming consumed by a veil of deep navy clouds.

"What is it?" he asked.

"They're coming," the Night Watch member replied, his voice gravelly. Hearing this, Kenji felt his blood run cold; his face paling.

"What?" he snarled, balling his fists tightly together. "Again? But father-"

Sensing the action, the other chuckled darkly. "Let's just hope there are not a lot of them this time."

"And if there are?" Kenji snapped. The Night Watch member placed a hand on his son's shoulder gently.

"If there are a lot of them, you are not to attack. Do you hear me?"

"But-" Kenji began but he was cut off by his father.

"No, Kenji. I do not want to see you get hurt."

* * *

"What do you want?" Kenji Tenma hissed venomously, his teeth bared.

From the corner of the wooden cabin-like hut, a tall man stood in the shadow of the window. His honey blond hair was slicked back neatly, his clothes, however, juxtaposed his neatness. What once was a crisp black suit was now soaked with blood; the blood of his family. His people.

Running his tongue along a sharp, pointed fang, a twisted smile tugged the corners of the mans lips upwards. From outside, dozens of his followers stood, their eyes a glowing crimson, awaiting his orders.

He was every bit as arrogant as he looked, however, the man said not a word. In fact, he did not even bother to look at the adolescent. This made Kenji's blood boil in utmost rage as he gnashed his teeth together, a snarl ripping from his throat.

"Go!" Kenji spat, his body hunched forward and distorted. Shifting was an agonizingly painful gift – excruciating. But he could not let this man know that. "Before I rip your heart from your chest!"

Folding his arms in front of his chest, the blonde man folded his arms across his chest, unphased by Kenji's threat. "Is that so?" he asked dangerously. "But _I_ am yet to do anything wrong."

A large, shadowy figure pushed his way in front of Kenji, raising a hand. His yellow eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the room and Kenji found himself frozen in shock.

"Lord Aidou," the gravelly voice spoke. "Please excuse my son."

Flinching at his fathers words, Kenji found his body reverting to its original, humanlike form.

"Not at all, Akito," Lord Aidou replied, his voice sickeningly gentle.

"Father!" Kenji defended, he did not understand why his father was allowing this man to live. It hurt him. Hurt him to see the blood of his people soaked into this mans clothing, yet his father willing to refer to him as '_Lord_.' "Why are you not killing him? I mean, he-"

"I know what he's done, Kenji," Akito growled in an undertone. Turning his attention from his son to Lord Aidou, Akito allowed his shoulders to slump.

"What can I help you with?" he asked in a steely tone.

"I want to make a deal with you, Akito."


End file.
